


Transparent

by motiveandthemeans



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love, Molly helps Sherlock escape Barts, Post HLV, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 08:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13096425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motiveandthemeans/pseuds/motiveandthemeans
Summary: Molly could always see through Sherlock





	Transparent

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one shot :)

“Hello.” Molly said awkwardly, entering the physician’s lounge of the medical surgical wing at St. Bart’s. A room full of men turned to face her with a surprised expression. “I was paged to-“

“Doctor Hooper!” Dr. Chadwick Ainsworth, a cardiothoracic surgeon, said with a relieved smile. “Thank goodness you’re here-“

“Actually, I’m supposed to be off, but the Chief of Surgery called and asked if I’d consult on a case.”

“Ah, yes.” He chuckled, his light brown hair falling across his forehead in an attractive manner, his green eye shined. “I cannot tell you how happy I am that you’re taking this case off my hands.”

Not sea green, though. 

“There’s not a body in the morgue related to any cardiovascular disorder.” She replied with a defiant snap. “I’m really not very keen on being summoned at your beck and call, Chad-“

“No, no, you misunderstand. You’ve been requested to take over primary care of this patient, he himself is denying care until he gets, and I quote, ‘The only competent doctor in this bloody place, and she works on dead people so how’s that for irony.’” His grin widened. “Any guesses who?”

Molly let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, bloody hell. Sherlock…”

* * *

Sherlock laid in his bed, arms behind his head as he waited for the imminent arrival of his pathologist. 

And as if on cue, said brunette entered the private hospital room accompanied by his original doctor whom Sherlock deduced was more interested in medicine for the cachet of wearing a white coat than actually being motivated to help people or a remotely vague interest in anatomy. 

“Ah, Molly!” He grunted. “Glad you could-“

“Sherlock, you cannot-“

“Mr. Holmes.” Doctor Ainsworth interrupted. “You could stand to be a bit more polite to Doctor Hooper, it is her day off and she came only at the behest of our chief of surgery.” 

“Oh, you’re still here.” Sherlock replied dismissively. Molly knew he wasn’t going to budge. 

“Chad, it’s fine. I’ll pull one of the WOW’s in here and go over his files.” 

Chad gave her a wary sideways glance. “Molly, on second thought maybe it’d be best if I continued giving his care. You do deal with dead people-“

“I really, really, don’t think you need to criticize an Oxford graduate who was Magnum Cum Laude on her qualifications.” Sherlock interjected. “Leave us.”

Chad rolled his eyes, saying his farewell’s to Molly before leaving. 

The Pathologist and Consulting Detective stared each other down. 

Molly was wearing a pair of form fitting dark wash jeans and a tight emerald green shirt, her hair was down and her glasses on. Her colorful jumper was in hand and large bag on her shoulder as she stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed. 

“Molly, I need your help.”

She let out a sigh. “I’m not going to change the basal setting of your morphine, Sherlock-“

“No, no it’s nothing like that.” He replied in earnest, attempting to sit up. “I promise you it’s not.”

Molly tensed at his tone. “Sherlock, what is it? What do you need?”

“I need you to know…Molly, I need you to know that-that I’m sorry for what I said when I was high-“

“Never mind that now.” She waved off the apology, setting her bag sweater down. “What do you need?”

“You.” He smiled a bit. “Always you.”

“Yes I gathered that but in what capacity?”

Obviously the meaning of his words had fallen short with her. No matter he was a man of action regardless. “Molly, I once asked you to kill me.” He gulped. “Now I need you to help me leave this hospital unnoticed and without my brother’s knowledge. Within the hour, preferably.”

The bespectacled pathologist shook her head, pacing the room. “No. No I won’t do it. You’re not fit to leave this hospital, Sherlock.” 

“This isn’t about me, it’s about John. He’s…he’s in trouble, Molly. I’m the only one that can help him.” Sherlock replied, reaching out to grab her hand. “Please.”  
“Why…why do you always neglect your own-“

“Because that’s what you do for the people you love.” He said. “You neglect your life in hopes that their life is better for it.”

Molly felt his hand lace with hers, his fingers unconsciously taking time of her rapid pulse. “Your heart is racing.”

“Not an unusual reaction to being in your presence for most women, I suppose.” She said with a humorless laugh. “Or so the tabloids say.”

“Ah, yes. That. Well…Janine and I we…it-it’s not anything. That is to s-say-“

“It was a joke, Sherlock. Don’t blow your stiches.” She drawled, releasing his hand. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” 

They were silent for a long moment. He knew that he was asking a lot of this woman; this kind, sweet, brilliant woman who never asked anything of him while he only ever asked of her. “Will you help me, Molly Hooper?”

“I will, Sherlock. But this time it’s going to cost you.” She smirked. “And it’s not going to come cheap either.”

‘Well’ Sherlock mused to himself. ‘It was bound to happen at some point.’

“Are we actually negotiating my illegal release from the hospital?” he sighed playfully. “Very well, name your price…”

“I’m headed out of town next week and well, Toby doesn’t travel well-“

“Absolutely not. No, no I will not watch your cat. I don’t care for your feline and frankly, I don’t doubt he hasn’t previously plotted my demise.”

“Well then you two should get on splendid considering you have also hypothesized the death of your friends.” She teased. “Or do I no longer fit into that category since I slapped the cocaine out of you?” 

“You count, Molly. You’ve always counted. And I’ve always trusted you.” He said. “But I’ve never theorized your death. I could never…couldn’t follow through with it.”

She smiled fondly. “So you’re saying you’ll do it?”

“Yes, I suppose I’ll watch the beast.” He said impatiently. “Oh, do you think your Uncle will have any honey ready for harvest?” 

“I’ll see what I can get-wait. How did you know I was going to Moore Park?”

“You always go the first week of May.” He said. “It’s when the lavender fields are blooming and your family used to take walks in the evening through the laurels when you were small.”

“How could you possibly deduce that?”

“I didn’t, I looked through your photo albums while I was using your home as a bolt hole after the fall.” He said simply. 

She frowned. “You’re the worst.”

“I also discovered you were born and raised in Mumbai and lived in India till you were eight. The British climate agreed better with your brother’s asthma.” He said. “Also explains your friendship with Meena and fondness for Curry.”

“Alright. That’s enough deducing for one day.” Molly rolled her eyes muttering something akin to ‘bloody show off’ while donning gloves. “Come on, Sherlock no time to waste. We’ve got to risk my reputation and professional license once more. Let’s not dawdle around the inevitable, shall we?”

* * *

Molly was lying in bed that night, verging on sleep when her phone chimed.

_Thank-you, Molly Hooper. I hope you sleep well. -SH_

Molly smiled. 

_You’re not getting out of watching Toby, Sherlock. -MH_

_I find it rather annoying you can see right through my fibbing. -SH_

_No, you don’t.-MHxx_

_No, I don’t. -SH_


End file.
